“There’s an art opening next Friday. My company is one of the top sponsors. I’d like you to go with me.”

“With you with you? Like as an escort? Won’t that be an indication that you’re not as straight as people think you are?”

Thorne considered the question for a moment. “As my friend.”

That was a disaster waiting to happen. “You really think no one’s going to guess what’s up?”

Thorne waved away his concern. “They can guess all they want.”

“So you’ll just talk casually with me, remember not to touch me, and—”

“Forget it.”

The intensely hurt expression on Thorne’s face surprised Dash. He laid his hand on top of Thorne’s. “I don’t want you to out yourself if you’re not ready.”

Thorne closed his eyes, and Dash watched his chest rise and fall. “I’m not ready to stand up and make a big speech about who I take to bed, but I’m beyond caring about starting rumors.”

Dash caressed the back of Thorne’s hand. “Are you, really?”

“Yes.” Thorne looked at him, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something so painful Dash almost looked away.

“Then I’ll go.” Dash couldn’t say no. He’d gone to plenty of similar affairs as an escort: sometimes men—or women—hired him solely for that purpose with no sex after. Except, when he thought about pretending to be Thorne’s date, his pulse sped up so fast he wondered if his heart would give out. “Is this a black-tie affair? Should I rent a tux?”

“I’ll get you one. Don’t worry,” Thorne said. His enigmatic smile unsettled Dash.

“Won’t I need to be fitted?”

Thorne shook his head. “I know your size.”

“Is that some secret hidden talent? You look at a man and instantly know his measurements?”

Thorne laughed. “Hardly, though my tailor apparently has superpowers.”

“You actually have a fucking tailor?” Of course he did.

“I do.” Obviously unwilling to reveal more, Thorne pulled Dash to him for a kiss, one that was soft, sweet, and filled with emotion.

Dash needed to get out of there. He pulled away and slid from the bed.

“Do you really have to go?” Thorne asked.

Don’t give in. Don’t let him seduce you. “I do.”

“So next Friday then. You’ll need to come a few hours earlier than usual.”

***

THORNE REMOVED THE garment bag protecting the tux he’d had altered for Dash. He’d simply shown Darius, his tailor, a picture of Dash and described him, but he was confident it would fit. The man was fucking brilliant.